


A New Home

by orphan_account



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, i'll tag more as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-30 08:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10158818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After getting kidnapped by the Baker family, a certain Baker takes a liking to you.





	1. Welcome To The Family

**Author's Note:**

> Hi thanks for reading my fic! Just a disclaimer this was unbeta'd and I don't usually write. This was just for fun and I don't really have much of a plot in mind but we'll see where it goes!

Quietly, you walked along in the warm summer night, your path illuminated by the soft glow of fireflies flying absentmindedly around you. You were returning from a friends house, accidentally letting yourself stay after dark even though you had promised your parents you'd be home before sunset. You had simply lost track of time and didn't bother to berate yourself, as your house was only a 10 minute walk away. You had said your good byes to your friend, and after finally convincing her to stop begging you to stay even longer, you had been off. Almost immediately after you had stepped out of your friends door, however, you had felt eyes on your back. You had ignored the feeling, yet proceeded with caution anyways. Every dozen or so yards you made sure to glance and make quick assessments of your surroundings, yet no one except the fireflies were out to keep you company. It was a weekday and by this time everyone was already inside their homes; parents were relaxing after a long day and children already had made their way inside to attend to chores or homework.

The soft chorus of crickets awakening for the night was your only comfort in the otherwise warm and isolated night. Their song alerted you that night was truly falling upon you faster than you realized, and you internally groaned at the nagging you'd be receiving from your mother. You quickened your pace, _to be home in time for dinner_ , you thought. In truth, however, paranoia was beginning to manifest and claw at your chest, making you more jumpy and anxious. Your footsteps echoed louder the closer you made it to home, as you were practically stomping now. The echoes were a bit louder than they should have been, you thought. You played it off as perhaps your odd paranoia heightening your sense of hearing.

Your house was finally in sight, relief instantly drowning out the anxiety bubbling in your chest. You couldn't wait to see the comfort of your mother's face and feel the warmth of her when you gave her a big hug. So drowned in your approaching scenario and want to be home safe, you could practically feel her arms already around you except, the false feeling of your mother's embrace was actually very _real_ and very _not_ your mother. Immediately you realized what was happening as lanky yet incredibly strong arms were wrapped around your body, pushing you into their owner's chest. Your immediate instinct was to struggle and scream for help, and you had opened your mouth to release the loudest yell when one of the arms in anticipation of your struggle had already moved to cover your mouth with cloth. You screamed in futile attempts to alert one of your neighbors of your trouble, but your screams were easily muffled by the cloth and drowned out by the loud opera of crickets, now in full session. Realizing your attempts were of no avail, you could feel your heart banging inside your chest. Your world was quickly clouding over in darkness, your strength depleting. It wasn't long until your body gave up it's fight in exchange for the forced peace of slumber, and you were lifeless in your captor's arms.

* * *

  
  
**CRASH! BANG!**   
  
You were awakened to a series of crashing sounds followed by rattles and loud metallic clangs. You slowly opened your eyes, rubbing them awake with the palm of your right hand. Instantly, your nostrils were hit with an odd, unfamiliar, and musty smell. Annoyed at the disturbance of your slumber, you were ready to complain to your mom, or whoever who had made that noise, about the commotion and the disgusting smell in your bed. Trying to rid of the stiffness in your bones, you sat up and attempted to stretch your torso forward, your left hand stopped abruptly by a strong tug. Forcing open your sleep-riddled eyes, you discovered something very wrong. Your hand was tied to the bedpost, but this wasn't your bed post. This wasn't your bed.   
  
Your annoyance was immediately replaced with fear and apprehension once you saw that you weren't in your own room or house. Instead, a simple room with faded white walls covered in a few paintings, with various candles set on a wooden drawer in the front of the room with a lantern to your left of your tied hand as the only sources of light.   
  
" _God damn it, Jack! I told you to stay the hell out of my kitchen!_ " A shrill female voice screeched in another room.   
  
" _Shut the hell up Margeurite and get me a goddamn broom for this mess!_ " A male voice boomed in response.   
  
Your eyes opened wide in terror and your heart begun to beat in deafening pangs when shots of unimaginable fear flowed through your veins. Your mind slowly recovered the memories from before you woke to just that of walking home and feeling arms around you and then darkness... You had been kidnapped. At the realization of this surreal situation, thoughts scrambled in and out of your head frantically as your anxiety intensified.   
  
Overwhelming nausea overcame you, from the disgusting smell of the linen beneath you or from pure anxiety and homesickness, you couldn't tell. You just wanted to go home - to be in the safety if your own room like you had planned before. You desperately pulled and yanked on the rope in an attempt to break it and release your hand to enable your escape, but it would not budge. So drowned in your own fear and desperation, you were oblivious to the thrashing you were causing. The headboard continued to bang on the wall over and over as you direly attempted to break free. You continued to pull harder and harder; the more you failed to undue the rope the harder and more desperate you tugged, continuously forcing the headboard to bang the wall repeatedly. It wasn't until the return of a familiar voice that you realized you were attracting unwanted attention.   
  
" _What the hell is that noise?_ " The female voice, Marguerite you assumed, had said. Instantly, you froze at the realization of what noise she meant.   
  
You had ceased your thrashing and now waited in anticipation as to what would come next. It was deafening silence, pierced only by the sound of your heartbeat thudding against your eardrums. You could quietly hear soft patter against wood in the distance outside the door, but the closer they got, the louder they became, soon turning into stomps approaching the room.   
  
The door swung open violently, smashing into the wall so hard, it rebounding almost as hard. An older woman with a look so angry and evil, she could put the devil himself to shame, came in slowly. She took quick suspicious glances around the room,  looking for the source the banging had come from. Soon her gaze fell straight onto you, changeing and softening at an inhumane speed.   
  
"Oh, dear, you're awake!" Her voice now quiet and sweet, void of the piercing tone from earlier. You wouldn't be fooled however; her voice was artificial and lacked any sincere kindness.   
  
There was something very _very_ off about this woman. She in no way looked human, but merely like a demon with a poor idea of how a human should look. Her greasy hair stood up against her head in wild disheveled clumpy strands, and her skin looked almost grey underneath the poor light of the room. She looked as if she was attempting to play the role of a caring and loving grandmother, yet in the fashion of familiar a cautionary tale, was failing miserably. She stalked over slowly to you, looking at you in the exact way a hunter looked at its prey.   
  
"I was making you a welcoming meal but I'm afraid my oaf of a husband ruined it." She spat out her last words with such spite, you thought she would have punched a wall. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer for me to cook ya somethin' else up."   
  
She smiled warmly at you, or as close to "warm" as she could. Her lips pulled up tightly, pushing her cheeks high up, forcing her eyes into small narrow slits. In the low light, the whites of her eyes disappeared, making her appear even more demonic. Her smile was not kind nor inviting, but the definition of madness.   
  
She stood at the side of the bed, waiting for some sort of response from you. Perhaps she forgot you were here against your will and expected you to play along with her, but you could only reply with small whimpers escaping your trembling lips. She didn't seem to mind your face of pure horror, however, and she merely stood there a moment longer, smiling her wicked smile before turning slowly to leave. She creeped back to the door out, turning to you just before she went out; that same smile plastered on forcibly.   
  
"I'll come back with something so good for you, don't'cha worry, you're family now and you're gonna eat like family!" Her smile widened even further and she seemed genuinely excited to do this action.   
  
Frozen in shock, terror, and plain confusion, you stared at the door for a few more moments in an attempt to comprehend everything that was happening. Your head was practically drowning in questions ranging from _W_ _here the fuck am I?_  to _W_ _ho the fuck was that?_  and why this Marguerite had called you _family_ ; you had never seen her before in your life. She seemed to be lost in her own little game of House and forgot that you were a less than willing participant in her twisted fun. You sat and reflected on your questions without answers, before you snapped back to reality, lost once again to the isolating silence and anxiety that came with it. However, this was a new chance to try and escape.   
  
Turning back to your predicament of your tied of hand, you contemplated on what to do. You realized thrashing against it would not help and would only bring terrifying and unpredictable responses and guests and there was nothing you had to cut the rope with. There was no other option except to attempt to wiggle and jimmy your wrist out of the tight rope. It seemed impossible, but you attempted to nudge your wrist out anyways.   
  
To your astonishment, you could feel the rope adjusting around your wrist, loosening ever so slightly. Thankful for whoever decided to tie this rope in such a sloppy way, you hurriedly attempted to wiggle your hand loose again. The process however, was too slow for the adrenaline that had begun pumping through your veins and the unsettled fear(or bile you weren't sure) in your stomach that had started making it's way up your throat the longer your binds wouldn't come undone. You began panicking once more and desperation overtook logic. Your slow wiggling quickly returned to your familiar frantic thrashing, banging the headboard repeatedly again as you cried out and whined in desperation to come free. You gave up your thrashing, but continued to quietly sob to yourself in your failure.   
  
Stomping could be heard approaching the room once again, forcing you to freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. The door swung open and an angry Marguerite marched inside, repeating the same actions from her previous visit. This time, her eyes instantly fell on you and she made an immediate beeline to you, stopping at the side of the bed.   
  
"You little shit! You better stop all that noise before I go and take off that little hand of yours myself!" She screamed at you, articulating every word in a piercing screech. She slammed her hands down on the bed and moved closer to your face with each word she spoke. "I am busting my ass in the kitchen for you, the least you could do is wait patiently, goddamnit! I better not have to come back in here or I swear!"   
  
She spoke with such harshness, it sounded as if she was screaming her throat raw. Her face was now mere inches away from yours, letting you get a new up close and personal view of her face and a good smell of her putrid breath. Even in the low light of the room, you could see exactly how sickly and dead she looked. Her skin so pale and translucent-looking, it looked like tissue paper covered her body and any and all remaining color had been flushed out except for the dark circles imprinted on her eyes.

You struggled not to vomit at the horrid and rancid smells coming from her mouth and the room, and pushed yourself back against the headboard in an attempt to get away, only trapping yourself. After looking into your terrified eyes for a few more moments and seeing her point made, Marguerite got up from her position, and marched back to the door. She turned just before shutting the door on her way out, and glared at you before she released an angry huff of air from her nose, then slammed the door shut, leaving you paralyzed in your fear once again. You didn't think she was bluffing when she spoke of taking your hand; the madness in her eyes and the angry shrill of her voice gave you a good indication she never made threats just to make them.   
  
You looked over to your bound hand once more in determination for another chance to escape. You proceed to continue attempting to calm yourself down, to not foil your own plan of freedom with more panic, to no avail. You began rotating your wrist in your binds, effectively loosening them. Soon you were able to free your hand, pulling a very sore hand away. You sat up quickly, giving your wrist a few rubs to soothe the pain for the rope and the stiffness from being stationed there for how many hours, you didn't know. With your new found freedom, you jumped quickly out of bed, eager to find a way of escape. Looking around, you found no other doors in the room except the one Marguerite had been entering and exiting.   
  
You quietly tip-toed over to the door, careful not to press too much weight on the aged floorboards, lest you make a noise and attract unwanted attention. You pressed an ear against the door and listened for any oncoming visitors. Your hearing was blocked by the loud pangs of your heart, but nonetheless, you assumed that if anyone were coming, you would be able to hear their footsteps. After hearing none, you slowly opened the door and made your way outside the room and towards freedom. 


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You leave the room.

Frantic glances to your left and right, and you pranced out of the room like a frightened and injured deer, not even bothering to close the door behind you.

The heavy air and the rancid smell of the house that clung to it assaulted your nose and instantly crippled you and your sensitive stomach. Your nausea returned with a punch, doing flips in your stomach and knocking at the insides of your head. You were desperate for your escape and attempted to ignore the dry heaves and irresistible urge throw up, however, you had only made it a few feet before you found yourself gripping the railings in the middle of the walkway where you collapsed onto your knees suddenly.

The bile in your stomach was sinking it's stinging claws into your throat, as it attempted to escape. You painfully swallowed back the fluid, leaving your throat feeling raw and your mouth bitter as you continued to attempt to stand.

During your attempt to recuperate, you noticed the small details of the house. The air suffocated you like a thick noose against your throat and the ominous atmosphere was accompanied with eerie silence, save for the sounds of the various random creaks in wood and the howls of the wind against the house itself; both of which only made you more paranoid. You couldn't tell if a loud creak was just the house adjusting against the wind, or Marguerite coming.

Thinking of her name struck fear into your heart. You trembled and felt your skin dampen from sweat when her crazed eyes appeared in your mind. Marguerite would be coming back anytime now and if she were to see you in your position, you knew her threats would become reality, which was why you couldn't let your body fail you now.

The skin around your knuckles turned white as your hands strained in their attempts to lift your body which seemed to be made of led suddenly. Your arms disobeyed your brain's commands, seemingly taking on a mind of their own, paralyzed by fear. The weights of exhaustion clung to your legs like shackles. Even if you had woken up in this place, you had about as much energy if you had not a wink of sleep stored in your eyes or in your body. The constant intense waves of panic that flowed throughout your body cost you; you were stuck in a constant battle of trying to calm a wildfire of anxiety in your chest with nothing at your disposal but air.

Looking at the ground in frustration at your body's blatant refusal of your commands in such a dire situation, you felt tears starting to well up in your eyes. They flowed easily, and you couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. Soon, you found yourself sobbing quietly to yourself, hiccuping and choking on your tears. You cried out for your mom, for your dad, for anyone to come save you. This crazy shit only happened in movies or in the news, not to people like you. All feelings drained from your chest, and the emptiness of despair was all you could feel now.

You relaxed your body against the rail’s columns as you gave in to the helpless feeling that was beginning to wash over you. However, the feeling began to transform into something comforting. A warm delightful feeling. The warm feeling began to flow through your body, starting from your head down. For a moment, you decided, you would give your body a rest, reasoning that it would help. The panic and horror of your situation seemed to gradually vanish into nothingness, leaving you to bask in this comforting warmth.

Your senses shut down, and you could no longer smell the putrid house or have to look at the ugly ripped wallpaper on the rotting wood. Your eyes were shielded in the safety of your eyelids and your nose seemed to grow immune to the smell. You rested your head against the columns of the railway, dosing off, gifting your body well needed rest.

It didn't last long, for the unmistakeable sounds of footsteps alerted you.

The warmth that overcame your body instantly scattered and you were fully aware of exactly where you were again and your circumstances. Your eyes lost all trace of the sleepiness from before, replaced now with alertness and fear. Looking down through the columns of the walkway, you could see Marguerite making her way towards the (your) left staircase, a tray that held odd contents in hand.

Your blood went cold and your limbs rigid. You snapped your head to your left, realizing the open door would give you away in a mere few seconds. You looked around frantically in an effort to find some sort of escape. To your right, you spotted a closet. Your body sprang to life and you dashed towards it. The blood drained from your face as you attempted to pry it open, but it was sealed shut.

Marguerite was coming up the stairs now, each slow step against the creaky wood echoing loudly against the entire house. You were out of options and and dread began overtaking your heart.

You pried once more, flinging the doors open, greeted by the strong aroma of garbage and sight of clothes crowding it too much for you to fit inside. All hope seemed lost until you spotted another door to try to your left. Clumsily, you stumbled towards it, grasping the knob to see if it was unlocked.

"Lucas is that you? Boy I told y-" Marguerite had heard your loud commotion as you scrambled towards the door. "Son of a...!" Marguerite muttered under her breath as she then saw the open door to your former prison.

You knew you were caught. Quickly, you turned the knob, yanked the door open, ran inside, and slammed the door shut behind you, locking it. Outside, you could hear the tray and it's contents that Marguerite carried fall suddenly to the ground and the unmistakeable sound of quick, loud, and aggressive stomping on the weak wooden stairs.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it seemed. You walked a few steps, the adrenaline simmering down at an alarming rate, replaced by the previous nausea. You attempted to break into a run, only to stumble onto a nearby table, almost taking it down with you. Marguerite had made it to the door and began banging on it furiously.

"OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR YOU LITTLE SHIT-EATING BRAT! COCK SUCKING SHIT HEAD!" The door cried against her pounding, threatening to give out and come down.

Weakly, on shaking legs, you pushed your body back up. _Just a little further_ you kept telling yourself in a feeble attempt to keep yourself moving forward. There was a door now in front of you and for a moment, you felt the warmth of relief.

It was short-lived however, as the dread of the thought of it being locked entered your mind. You turned the knob to find it miraculously open. Taking a quick glance back, you saw the door on its last hinges, becoming a serious threat of giving out. How the fuck was anyone that strong? Not stealing a moment longer, you shoved the door open, and went inside.

The moment you closed the door, you fell to your hands and knees, and promptly vomited. All the contents your body had forced itself to hold back now came out, not giving you a moment to breathe. It seemed like an eternity that the stinging contents flowed from your throat, forcing tears from your eyes as you struggled to breathe against the assault.

When your body finally let you, you let out a shaky breath, the cold air from your lungs stinging against your raw throat. Your stomach was emptied but the anxiety still ran rampant in your stomach. You felt a shred of comfort in finally emptying your stomach, however, that moment would be stolen from you very quickly.

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, apologies, Lucas makes a FULL appearance next chapter, I promise. ^^U


	3. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas appears and gives a warm greeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It was a bit of tough one, as I had written this chapter about twice before scrapping the ideas. I'm still unsure if I like how it's written, but enjoy!

Your heart immediately dropped; the nerves in your face seemed to physically drain, leaving you paralyzed and feeling like you had left your body entirely.

You were caught.

Marguerite had somehow snuck up on you and it was all over now. Scenarios flashed through your head - the thought of never seeing your family or friends again, how she'd murder you, how your body would look, and the thoughts of just being labeled just another unsolved missing persons case by the police. You could fight her off, but you had no fighting experience whatsoever, how long would you last? It didn't matter, you refused to go down without trying to fight; you refused to have your fate stolen from you.

You slowly turned your head, your fists clenched and ready to execute your poor idea of combat. From the corner of your eye, a silhouette, one you had not expected, caught your eye. Clearly it was not Marguerite and you snapped to attention at this unexpected person, only to be instead greeted by a tall man crouching over you, his face covered by a hood. You could only see his sharp jawline and the facial hair that shadowed it. Opening your mouth to scream in surprise, he stopped you by placing a finger up to his lips.

"Hey now, I don't think you should be doin’ that." He cracked a crooked smile and tilted his head to the side. “You might stink up the whole goddamn room with that shit breath of yours!”

He let out a hushed laugh, laughing at his own lame quip. You looked at him with wide, bloodshot eyes and your mouth agape. You could still hear Marguerite loudly banging on the door at the end of the hallway outside, yelling colorful profanities in between the loud pounds against the door, yet somehow, the danger of Marguerite seemed to fade entirely. Now, this man was in front of you and was something else entirely. He was crouched next to you and your pile of vomit, looking at you from underneath his hood with exaggerated sympathy, like he was attending to an injured animal. However, you were a mere lamb in this den of wolves. He shared that same predatory look of glee in his eyes that Marguerite had.

"Wh-who the f-" You stammered out weakly, before he cut you off.

"Shh, keep quiet unless you want my ma to hear you." He said quietly in response.

  
Your eyes went even wider than you thought imaginable.

"Y-y-y-your mo-mo-"

Before you even had a chance to react, he grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you snuggly into his lap with your back against his warm chest as he slapped his bony hand over your mouth, not seeming to mind the spit and bile that still glossed your lips, and pulled the both of you against the wall just to the right of the door, almost knocking over the lamp that had been situated there. You squealed against his hand and attempted to wiggle out of his hold to no avail, but quickly stilled yourself when you realized your voice was now the only sound to be heard. The previous banging and pounding coming from outside that had previously echoed throughout the outside hallway was gone now, replaced by silence.

In the new quiet, you were now painfully aware of the insides of your body. Your heart thumped rapidly, banging against your chest while your head emulated the same rhythm with dull pains against your skull. Grumbles and gurgles came from your stomach as you felt more anxiety and sickness sloshing around inside, threatening to come out as gas or puke. All subtle sounds sounded exaggerated and made you all the more sick and self conscious of your surroundings.

The both of you sat like this, waiting and listening. You continued to attempt to calm your shaky breathing to no avail. You were rigid in this man's grasp, a strangely familiar feeling, and looked around the room to attempt to keep your mind occupied. You first noticed the odd shape of the room and the ugly, out of place checkered flooring that didn't match any of the furniture scattered about. It was a child's room. You could tell by the various furniture pieces shaped after child's games and toys scattered around that was obviously a room for a child, which brought up the question as to why this man would be in here. Two bright and clashing colors dulled by years of neglect painted the walls - green and pink - making clear signs of where a young boy and girl would be.

Trophies adorned the desk in front of you to your left and-

The loud sounds of of wood being broken apart and clattering against itself interrupted your sightseeing. You could feel the man's grip on your mouth tense a bit. It was Marguerite. Your heart rate had just cooled down a minuscule amount but proceeded to beat faster and harder than before.

"Now, where the FUCK are you, you little bitch!?" Marguerite screeched outside.

You could hear the wooden floors outside creaking under Marguerites stalking footsteps. She was so close; the door was the only protection between her, you, and her son. You were still in the wolves den and had actually managed to jump from one terrible situation to a worse one. The false protection of the door only meant that you were safe from one danger as you sat in the grasp of another.

She made a few paces up and down the hall, a light she carried illuminated through the bottom crack of the door, alerting you every time she came near and went far. You held your breath in anticipation, just waiting for the inevitable when she would burst through the door and tear you to pieces and her son would only join in. Every time you saw the light grow brighter, you could feel yourself grow rigid, somewhat relaxing in this man's arms as it grew dim. Eventually, the footsteps and the light disappeared altogether, signaling Marguerite was gone.

A few moments after when you knew it was safe, you shoved yourself forward and out of the man's arms, falling onto your stomach next to your pile of vomit as you attempted to scramble away from this new danger.

"Hey, get back here!" He yelled at you, attempting to grab at your scrambling legs, only to be met with your frantic kicks.

You continued your attempts to crawl away, only for him to grab one of your ankles, yanking you towards him, then using his own body to hold your panicked one down. He latched onto your waist, proceeding to use his own legs to hold you down. He felt like a ton of bricks against your waist, yet you continued to attempt to claw yourself out from under him. Flipping you around onto your back suddenly, he took your wrists in his hands. Desperately, you struggled and attempted to slap or punch him - anything, to no avail.

"Fucking stop struggling!" He yelled out in frustration, before he slammed your wrists on the parallel sides of your head.

All the movement of your struggling did not sit well for your anxiety-filled stomach. You felt as if you were going to puke all over again as you looked at him fearfully with tear filled eyes, already accepting the fate he would probably bestow upon you now.

He stared down at you with crystal blue eyes- eyes that lacked any mercy within them. Your eyes wandered around his face, looking over his sharp bone structure and his weak facial hair. His eyes scared the living hell out of you; the way they bored down at you with a wild look, the same one that you saw within Marguerite’s.

"Let me go..." You begged weakly.

"Now I can't do that… ” His voice was low, just above a whisper.

He moved your hands so your arms were stretched out above your head, pinning both of your wrists into one of his large hands while he used his newly freed one to pull something out from his hoodie’s pockets. You could hear clattering in his pockets as he moved his hands around, looking for something. After fidgeting around for a bit, he pulled out a zip tie. Tears began to spill out of your eyes as you watched him work your hands into the small plastic, trapping you once again. He noticed your tears and leaned back down on you.

“Aww, don't cry,” He spoke with false sympathy as he pulled the zip-tie into the loop. “you ain't a very pretty crier, if I'm being honest.” Chuckling to himself, he finished adjusting the zip-tie and lifted you back up onto your feet.

He stood before you, towering over you at least by a full head. He let go of your bound hands and moved his own to your face. He tenderly caressed your cheeks with his long, skinny, spider-like digits, taking up almost your whole face in his hands. Confused at his actions, you looked up at him, hoping to find answers on his face. He had that false sympathy in his eyes and for a moment, that momentary sense of calm you had felt previously outside on the walkway returned. Your senses clouded over and you felt yourself relax into his grip. The more you stared, the more you drifted and soon you found your eyes fluttering shut, your head beginning to loll into his hands.

“Hey…” His distant voice called out to you.

“Hey!” A sharp pain in your cheeks brought you back to reality. The man had pinched your cheeks to bring you back to attention. “Don't go fallin’ asleep on me! You need to be awake to see what I got planned for our date, it's reaaaal special.”

The grin he gave you slapped your conscious back into working order once more. Your cheeks burned from his grip and all the familiar feelings of fear and anxiety came back. It was odd, but you were somewhat becoming used to the feelings, but every time you went into those clouded states of mind, they felt foreign and painful all over again.

He turned from you, opening the door of the room slowly and peeking out, with motions suggesting he was checking that the coast was clear. You looked on with confusion to his acts of caution. You were the one who had not only been _kidnapped_ , but now you were bound AGAIN as well. It seemed almost like mockery to your own situation; you had no choice but to play by his rules, on his turf, his territory.

Your pondering thoughts and the rage you began feeling in your chest simmered down quickly at your brains particular word choice.

 **Territory**.

It gave you a terrifying thought that made your blood run cold. Clearly this man wasn't a captive, yet he didn't want to run into his parents or whoever else was in this damn madhouse. You met his mother and couldn't even imagine what his father must be like. He said he had a “date” planned for you, and you could only assume he didn't want anyone interfering, which only scared you even more. You had no idea what to think. You were just an odd piece of property to these people. The man, looking back at you, saw your confused and pondering face and flashed you a toothy smile before grabbing your tied up hands with one of his own, and lead you outside the room.

Outside, you saw the mess of broken wood that Marguerite had caused. The door she broke through had not been completely _decimated_ , but there was a missing large chunk in the middle, big enough for a person to fit through, where jagged broken and bent wood lined the edges, while the perimeter of the door still clung on to the door frame. On the ground, you could see that was where most of the door now resided. However, upon closer inspection, you observed and made note that this was not a weak or pliable sheet of wood; it was sturdy and thick, and Marguerite had rammed through it in one go. The confusion you felt consistently was unexplainable and only added to your nightmare theory.

The man pulled you along by your bound hands, stepping around the broken pieces of wood, muttering a humorous ‘sorry for the mess’, and lead you back outside to the railway. It seemed as if you were now just retracing your steps back to your prison, but when the man guided you to the right staircase and not back to the room where you started, you felt a mixture of relief, confusion, then fear. Fear of the unknown and fear at your general circumstances. You tried convincing yourself that this man would be more sane than Marguerite and maybe if you played your cards right, you could get him to let you go, but deep down, you knew there would be no bargaining with any of these people.

As the both of you made your slow descent down the stairs, you looked to the left to see the mess of spilt “food” that Marguerite had dropped from earlier. It was just an odd colored mush of… macaroni? Pasta? You could not discern exactly what Marguerite was going to bring you. It looked like lima beans, but way too large to be the legume. You turned your head away in disgust, looking onward to see your new captor had noticed the mess as well, with an equal look of disgust on his face.

“Momma will never learn that nobody wants to eat that nasty ass mess that she calls food.” He shook his head in an equal mix of disappointment and disgust.

He stared at it with his face screwed up, before deciding internally that he'd rather touch your vomit than his mother’s terrible cooking.

You both reached the end of the stairs before he let go of your hands, turning to you with that signature toothy smile and telling you to wait there and not go anywhere. You looked at him with narrowed eyes, angered at his sarcastic remarks. He cracked jokes and you couldn't tell if he genuinely was trying to make things more lighthearted or was simply mocking you, but either way, it pissed you off to no end. You let in a deep breath to calm yourself as you watched him walk to a large steel door with an odd design in the middle with a large, odd shaped indent a part of it. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on in the hectic design before the man pulled three matching steel pieces from his jacket's pockets and placed them into the indents on the design, making a three headed dog, and a click was heard. It baffled you as to exactly what this was for, and the fleeting thought of _Who designs this weird shit?_ and _Who buys it?_ crossed your mind. Everything was just so odd and abstract, there was absolutely no way this was real. The false reassurance of waking up any minute was the only thing keeping you sane at this point.

The man walked back to you, taking your hands back into one of his. He guided you back to the odd steel door, opening it, exposing you to the muggy air of the outside.

You were outside! Now was your chance to escape! You egged yourself on internally, telling yourself little bits of reassurance to get yourself to just move from the damned spot. Scenarios ran through your head playing out your escape, then your capture. Escape was your number one priority, but you were terrified to think if you were captured as well. It was that fear that paralyzed you and kept your feet firmly planted to the ground, but you could feel the rising anticipation within your body that fought against that fear.

Time began to slow down, each millisecond taking an eternity and a half. You were stuck in this slowed reality, as you carefully contemplated your actions. You thought about exactly how fast you could run, regretting all those times you skipped out or simply did a poor job of running in every gym class you took, but not bothering to think about it further, and if you did run, whether your captor be able to catch you. Of course he could. You looked at his long legs, and all the reassurance and build up you had left you. You felt hopeless and the sharp nails of panic began to sink into your belly. As your breathing quickened in time with your rising restlessness, you felt like you were going to suffocate on the thick summer heat. You felt like an animal caught in a hunters trap all over again and now you had only one thought: escape. Playing along further into whatever death trap your captor planned would surely only mean death. Never before had you felt this close to death and it scared you beyond imaginable. By now, if this was truly a nightmare, you would have woken up with a start, but with relief. That would be your escape. However, that wasn't going to happen. You had to accept it, and you had to accept it _fast_. The more you thought about it, the more anxiety and urge to run built up.

It was unbearable and you couldn't take it any longer. Now you knew what you had to do and it was now or never.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to critique or anything as I'm not much of a writer. Thanks for reading!


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